


Blow

by pointundertaken



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Electricity, Flashbacks, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointundertaken/pseuds/pointundertaken
Summary: Klaus lets his thoughts get the better of him.





	Blow

Klaus collapsed onto his bed.

Every surface of his room, every element of his perception, seemed to be in motion, thrumming as if it were a metal wire. Every ounce of blood in his body beat ceaselessly against his eardrums in a dull, whining thud, and spread to the very edge of his extremities. Coke always did this to him – made him vibrate with that borrowed energy that could, for an hour or two, keep the dead away.

Despite being maxed on sensation, Klaus wanted more. He thought he might like to feel his heart actually beat out of his chest. _Pain_ , he mused, _that could do it_. He dug the heels of his palms into his thighs. The faux leather bunched under his touch as he pushed down, pinching him and sending incremental jolts of pain thrilling across his skin. He ran his hands back up his legs, ghosting his fingernails over his exposed hipbone.

 _Or sex._ Images flashed in his mind – someone’s hands on his waist, teeth at his throat – a montage of drunken hook-ups and back-alley forays, rushed and dirty. The memories felt ashen, cloaked in a haze of whatever prescription drugs he’d choked down just prior.  
And yet, as the montage flowed, he noted an incongruity. One scene stood out, something from a few years back. It played more like a dream than a memory - it felt warm, hazy-light. Thin wrists pressed against the wall of his room, soft gasps, short black hair sticking to a sweat-damp forehead. Klaus remembers how wrecked Ben looked, lit lowly from the floor-lamp in the corner, burying his face in the crook of his neck and whimpering.

He squeezed his eyes, chasing the scene away. _He’s gone,_ Klaus, he told himself. When he opened them again, streaks of red and green danced across his field of vision. It was a flash of black in the periphery that caught his eye. He whipped his head to the left and recoiled.  
Ben was sitting on the edge of Klaus’s chest of drawers, absently running his finger through the dust on its surface and not disturbing a single particle. “ _Hey,_ ” he said, smiling softly.

“How are you…here?” Klaus gasped, bewildered.

Ben shrugged. He braced his arms against the chest of drawers and pushed himself up and off, landing lightly. He walked over to the bed and knelt, resting his arms on the edge of the mattress. “Y _ou must’ve been thinking of me_.”

He thought for a second before catching Klaus’s gaze again. “ _Were you?_ ”

Ben’s soft query caught Klaus off-guard. He started to respond but the words tangled in this throat and emerged from his mouth a stammered mess, and he looked back at Ben helplessly.

“ _You can tell me,_ ” Ben whispered.

Klaus swore he could feel Ben’s breath ghost over his ear. He pushed the back of his head into the pillow and groaned.  
“ _Do you still think about it?_ ”

\- -

  
_It._ They’d been in their early 20s, back at the Academy for some reason (another city landmark gone sentient? Who knew, all their escapades blended together after a while). The house had been quiet – Luther and Allison had stolen off to some corner bar, Diego was studying for his police qualification exam, and Five was present only in the form of a huge oil painting looming over the fireplace.

And Ben and Klaus had been – what? Sharing a bottle of whiskey? Passing a joint back and forth? The details were lost to Klaus’s conscious memory. He remembered sitting on the floor and leaning back against the leather couch, laughing hysterically about the catchphrase Diego had pulled out during the fight. Ben was doubled over, laughing so hard almost no sound came out.

_Skip._

Ben had shrugged off his black hoodie, revealing a short-sleeved gray V-neck that clung to his arms and chest. Klaus didn’t think twice before running the tip of his index finger down Ben’s arm, tracing the curve of his bicep. He swore that he felt something electric skittering across the surface of Ben’s skin as he barely contacted it. Ben turned to look at him, slightly surprised and questioning.

Klaus had responded with a request. “Don’t freak out.” He planted his palms on the Persian rug and closed the space between himself and Ben, bringing the two nose to nose. He’d looked down at Ben’s lips, whispered against them, “Can I?”

Ben had responded with a murmur, and pressed his lips to Klaus’s.

_Skip._

They’d made it to Klaus’s room, hurriedly pushing piles of clothes out of the way and ending up pressed against the short stretch of wall by the door. Ben’s shirt was up around his chest and his pants partially unbuttoned, to say nothing of his hair, which was in total disarray.  
He hadn’t expected Ben to be like this. His cheeks were flushed, and the words that streamed from his spit-slick lips were a litany of “ _don’t stop, please, feels so good, please please please…_ ”. And who could blame Klaus for giving Ben everything he asked for? He pinned Ben’s wrists above his head and rocked up against him, letting the friction of layers of fabric add to the heat pooling in his lower abdomen.

Ben buried his face in Klaus’s shoulder and whispered something, lips dragging on Klaus’s collarbone.  
Klaus responded by rocking harder into Ben. “You’re gonna have to – ah – speak up if you want something.”

“ _Fuck me._ ”

\- -

“ _Klaus_ ,” Ben said softly, barest hint of a groan slipping out.

Klaus couldn’t tell whether he’d been lost in that memory for a second or ten. The metallic thrumming that suffused the room had been replaced with a warm hum, and Klaus’s every minute movement sent shocks of arousal throughout his body. He smoothed his hand over his stomach, over the waistband of his pants, and onto the bulging outline of his cock. He squeezed and exhaled shakily.

  
Ben traced this movement with dark, lust-blown eyes. He leaned over to Klaus, angling his head until his lips were grazing the surface of Klaus’s ear. He wasn’t corporeal, no…but Klaus swore that he could feel pinpricks of static electricity dancing across his skin. “ _Do it_ ,” he said lowly, “ _I wanna watch you come for me_.”

Klaus nodded and pushed his pants down. He wrapped his hand around his cock and gave a cursory stroke, hips inadvertently twitching upward.

“ _You want it, huh?_ _The thought of me too good to resist?_ ” Ben’s voice cracked as the gravity of his question settled on him. Klaus was here, already panting, pants around his thighs and touching himself at the thought of them, and that made Ben’s head spin. “ _I could take you apart, just like you did to me._ ”

Klaus groaned and bucked up into his hand, stroking now as quickly as he could. It was as if he could see the echo of that scene, him pounding Ben into the wall until Ben was practically crying for it - unintelligible and, for the first time, free. He imagined their positions switched. The hum in the room had grown into an insistent buzzing, the charge in the air absolutely tangible, and each movement sending waves – sharp and warm – up his spine.

“ _Keep going. You look so fucking good,_ ” Ben said breathlessly. “ _God, I wish I could fuck you right now._ ”

“Please,” Klaus whined, arching his back convulsively. He could barely hear himself over the now-deafening drone of electricity resonating off every wall in the room. It seemed to beat through his veins and settle in his very core, intensifying the sensation of skin on skin and building with each passing moment.

He was gasping now, almost at the very edge.

“ _Come for me,_ ” Ben moaned.

Klaus swung out his free hand, searching for Ben’s and finding fleeting corporeal contact. The touch hit him like a thousand volts; in a split second, he was coming in hot spurts. The buzzing of static electricity hit a swell and suddenly discharged, the bulb in the corner floor lamp bursting into a thousand little pieces.

Klaus lay breathless in total darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Still not sure how ghost canon works in TUA but the electricity thing is a huge headcanon of mine!
> 
> Props to @cathect for beta-ing!


End file.
